Angels With Their Wicked Schemes
by ThoseWhoDon'tBelong
Summary: Sam is gone and Castiel is acting more than strange.
1. Chapter 1

Dean yawned deeply, kicking off his shoes and laying back on the old mattress of the dinky motel room. He was staring blankly at the television, but none of what he was watching seemed to be sinking in. Not that it was important, just another sitcom that overplayed the laugh track. The hunter was just teetering on unconsciousness, but was trying to hang in there, purely because Sam was bringing home dinner.

He was _exhausted _his entire day was filled with being thrown all over the room by a seriously pissed off poltergeist. The Winchester brothers had been working on this case for a week. Turns out it was just a teenage girl, angry at the world, so she killed herself. She was taking her revenge on her friends and families. They ganked her though, after taking a serious ass whooping.

Dean was just beginning to doze off when there was the familiar sound of fluttering wings. Still, he jumped though as the sudden appearance of the pale, trench coated man standing in front of the TV. "Hello, Dean."

"Dammit, Cass." The hunter growled, beginning to pull himself up as he rubbed his eyes. "Ya think you could give me some sort of warning?"

"My apologies." The fallen angel replied, although he didn't sound it. His voice was just as monotone as ever. Dean rolled his eyes.

"What do you want, man? It's almost twelve. I told you not to come after ten." Dean said, obviously irritated. Why would this guy refuse to listen to anything he said?

"I called Sam." Castiel answered, taking this chance to step after into the room, scanning it as he spoke. "He told me in you were in this town."

"Yeah, so?" Dean barked, flashing him a glare. "Cass just because you know where we are doesn't mean you can just pop in whenever you want. Why the hell did you call Sam anyway? What do you want?" He didn't mean to sound so harsh, but hey, he _had _told the angel he needed space and he was exhausted. Ever since he found out God wouldn't help, Castiel had turned into a lost puppy, clinging onto Dean much more than usual. This had gone on for a week now. It was a bit too much.

Castiel, however, did not answer immediately. His bright blue - usually innocent - eyes were boring down on him. They had darkened, almost into a scowl, and his mouth was pinched. "Dean," He began his voice low. "I have always came when you've called me. No questions. No complainants. I would like to expect the same thing from you."

This was new for Castiel and Dean didn't like it. He should have known to keep his mouth shut, but in this groggy state, he couldn't help it. "Yeah? Well, you don't need sleep, do you? Well guess what, Cass! I do! So give me some damn space!"

The fallen angel advanced on him to quickly for him to react. Dean first felt one of Castiel's knuckles meeting his jaw before the other slammed into his stomach immediately after. The air was forced out of the hunter's lungs and he desperately inhaled to attempt to catch some.

Dean was reduced to heavy coughs and deep gasps of air by the time Castiel withdrew. He looked just as shocked as Dean did. "Dean," He uttered, his bright blue eyes wide with astonishment. "I'm sorry." He moved towards the hunter again, seeming to want to examine the wound he had just created on his cheek.

"Get the hell outta here!" Dean yelled when he finally found his tongue. Castiel's hand jerked back and he met his friend's eye, brow creased with worry.

"I'm sorry, Dean." Castiel replied, a moment later, he was gone.

You know what? To hell was consciousness. At that, Dean flicked off the TV and the lamp and went to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

It was just past nine when Dean woke. He yawned, rubbing his fist over his eyes as his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the morning that was just peeking through the windows. The hunter kicked off the blankets, stretched, and stepped into the bathroom. The sight of his reflection brought back all the memories of the night before. He had a shining bruise displayed on the right corner of his jaw.

"Son of a bitch…" Dean whispered, putting the tips of his fingers on the bruise. Even with his fading powers, Cass could give one hell of a punch.

Speaking of the night before, where the hell was Sam? He poked his head outside the bathroom. The twin bed was perfectly made, just as it was last night. Dean stepped out of the bathroom and looked outside. The impala wasn't there. Of course it wasn't. Sam took it when getting food.

So what was he going to do now? He was stranded in a hotel room. No car. No brother. He needed help, but Goddammit, he didn't want to ask for it. "Cass, listen. If you care a shit about me or Sam you'll get your ass down here now."

The reply was immediate. "Hello, Dean." Castiel greeted, although his voice was a bit more hesitant. He paused a beat. "Dean-"

"No. Cass don't say it." Dean interrupted immediately. He could read the guilt all over his face. The hunter knew exactly why the angel lost his cool. It wasn't surprising. "All is forgiven. Just don't do it again, got it?" He got an instant nod. Dean exhaled deeply before going on, "I can't find Sam."

Castiel brow furrowed and cocked his head to the side. "Where did you last see him?"

"Last night. Right after the hunt. He was going to get food." Dean replied. "You think you can fly around town once to find him?"

Castiel disappeared without an answer. That would never cease to annoy Dean. He was back a moment later. "Your brother isn't in town anymore."

"Goddammit!" Dean snarled immediately, storming a few feet back. "Then where the hell is he?"

"I don't know." Castiel retorted. He must not have realized it was a rhetorical question. After the glower that got sent his way, he must have picked up pretty quickly though. "I will help you look though."

"Thanks." Dean muttered, running a single hand through his hair as an act of stress. "I'll be ready in ten minutes. Wait here for me." And without waiting for an answer, he walked back into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

He jumped in the shower, just rising off, brushed his teeth, then threw on a t-shirt and pair of jeans. Dean was basically naked when it came to weapons. All he had was a single shot gun. The rest of them were backed safely in the impala which was now missing, along with his little brother.

When he pushed the door back open, he found Castiel right where he left him. Only now, his head was tilted upward slightly, staring up at the ceiling. "You ready?" Dean asked. No reply. He rose his eyebrows. "Hey! Earth to Cass!"

Instantly, a pair of bright blue eyes flicked to him. "I'm ready."

"You feelin' okay?" Dean asked, advancing towards the door and pushing it open. Castiel followed.

"I'm fine." He replied. Dean shot him a look of dis belief. His anger understandable last night, but completely out of character. Since when did Cass start to throw punches when he got angry?

"You sure?"

"I said I'm fine."

"Okay, okay." Dean countered, raising his hands defensively. He didn't press the subject. It wasn't worth another punch in the face. He had bigger things to focus on right now. Sammy, for example. To go searching for his brother, he'd need to "borrow" a car.

Castiel took watch while Dean took the car with easy. It was a second nature by now. "Get in." The hunter barked once he was finished and Castiel obeyed.

Off they drove then, until they were out of town.

They didn't talk much, not even play music. Dean was lost in thought, the worry for his brother rising the more he thought about it. He called his brother on every phone more than once and he never received one reply.

Castiel, on the other hand, looked even more intense than usual. He was staring daggers down at his milky white hands, jaw clenched, mouth pinched. It was a bit worrisome. That was the same expression he had made the night before.

"You sure you okay, man?" Dean asked after an hour and a half of driving in silence.

Slowly, those eyes rolled to Dean, drilling holes straight through him. "Dean, did I not already tell you I was alright?"

"I was just-"

"No." Castiel interrupted more anger in his voice. "I answered your question and now I'm looking for your brother, despite your lack of assistance to me."

Dean was shock. "What the hell is your problem?" He demanded, slamming on the breaks, making Castiel jerked forward. "Why are you acting like such an ass?"

"I'm helping your brother!" Castiel pointed again, colder this time.. "Because that's the only one you care about in your life, correct? Sammy?"

That was too far. Dean lurched towards the angel, grabbing the collar of his trench coat and slamming him into the side window.

On impact, Castiel flinched. The expression of pain wasn't the thing that truly surprised Dean though. It was the fact that his once crystal blue eyes had turned an inky black. They stared back at him, black as coal. Dean's grip faltered which gave Castiel a chance to throw and punch that met him on the cheek. The pale hand struggled with the door, threw it open, and ran. Leaving Dean paralyzed with shock.

This was sign enough for the hunter. At that moment, he knew the demon that was currently holding Cass was the one who had his brother.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean felt like he wasn't able to move for a good five minutes and when he finally managed to, he found his body was numb and stiff. How could Cass be possessed? He was an angel!

That was just it. He _was_ an angel. He had becoming more human by the day. Maybe he finally crossed the line.

"Shit…" Dean murmured to himself, seeing to just realize he let Castiel get away that easily. He repeated himself after discovering that his gun would have no effect on the possessed angel. "Okay. You can do this. You've handled demons before."

Sure, Dean's handled demons _with Sam._ And at no time were those demons controlling his best friend who just happened to be a fallen angel. Yeah, he was in trouble now.

Pushing these thoughts aside, Dean grabbed the wheel of the stolen car and slammed on the petal. He had no idea where he was going, just forward. Cass was sure to surface as some point. Demons are ones to stay hidden for long. It was only a matter of time. Dean just had to keep reminding himself to hang in there.

Dean drove until late afternoon. Until he feared he'd have a panic attack and crash the car if he didn't stop soon. He pulled into another old, cheap hotel. He paid for the room and collapsed on the bed the moment he entered. The hunter wasn't tired though despite his desire to sleep. He just wanted to be out of this world for an hour or slow.

Twenty minutes of lying flatly on the bed prove the fact that he wouldn't be sleeping right now. Fine, he would start drinking early today. Shoving his one gun into his coat pocket, Dean left his room and walked the short distance to town where he found a bar.

It was small and almost as disgusting as the hunter's hotel room, but it'd do for the time being. He plopped himself down and ordered a beer. His mind wandered as he waited for his drink. First it went to Sam. Was he alive? Beaten to a bloody pulp? Where was Cass keeping him?

Oh right, Cass. When did he get possessed? He was acting normal earlier that week when they talked. It had to have just happened. And what about the other night? He must have been possessed when he hit Dean, but right after, he apologized and he _meant _it. So, what? Was he fading in and out of it?

Dean was yanked back into reality when his beer was set in front of him. He quietly thanked the waitress before raising the glass to his lips and downing the beer. This continued again and again until the room got fuzzy around him and he wavered in his seat.

Finally, he was cut off. The waitress stepped back over to him, her arms crossed. "Okay, buddy, time for you to get going."

Dean looked up at her, muttered a few slurred words before he stood up and staggered outside. The cool air rushed him and he reel back a step. It was dark out now and very few people were out. How long was he in there? Must have been hours.

Even when this intoxicated, Dean knew if he could just make it back to his hotel room, he'd be just fine. He was pretty damn wasted though. Every step he took seemed to send him stumbling forward. The hotel wasn't even a mile away. He could do this.

Dean was nearly half way there before a terrible pain shot through the back of his head. He collapsed, feeling the warm, sticky liquid ooze then drizzle from the back of his head. Slowly, the hunter rose his aching head, eyelids drooping.

The figure stepped in front of him, shovel in hand. There was a smile curled from ear to ear on his sickly white face, black eyes meeting the hunter's green ones.

"Hello, Dean."

And his vision faded to black.


End file.
